58 RAMBLES OF 



NO. IV. 



My next visit to my old hunting- ground, the lane and 

 brook, happened on a day in the first hay harvest, when 

 the verdant sward of the meadows was rapidly sinking 

 before the keen edged scythes swung by vigorous mowers. 

 This unexpected circumstance afforded me considerable 

 pleasure, for it promised me a freer scope to my wander- 

 ings, and might also enable me to ascertain various par- 

 ticulars, concerning which my curiosity had long been 

 awakened. Nor was this promise unattended by fruition 

 of my wishes. The reader may recollect, that, in my 

 first walk, a neat burrow in the grass, above ground, was 

 observed, without my knowing its author. The advance 

 of the mowers explained this satisfactorily, for in cutting 

 the long grass, they exposed several nests of field mice, 

 which, by means of these grass-covered alleys, passed to 

 the stream in search of food or drink, unseen by their 

 enemies, the hawks and owls. The numbers of these 

 little creatures were truly surprising ; their fecundity is 

 so great, and their food so abundant, that were they not 

 preyed upon by many other animals, and destroyed in 



